Authors: Barrett
Tags: #Gay & Lesbian, #Contemporary, #Fiction, #Romance, #Genre Fiction, #Lesbian, #Lesbian Romance, #Literature & Fiction
Balefire (10 page)
Kirin frowned. “Is something wrong?”
“No. I think there’d be fewer questions if I walked from here.”
Kirin turned in her seat and faced Silke. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Silke didn’t know the answer to that question. “I think so. You’ve been a good friend, and I appreciate the ride.” She kissed Kirin’s cheek. “Keep in touch.”
Silke watched as Kirin drove down the block, stopped, and turned the
corner. She quickly switched into defensive mode as she justified the saf
est reason for being out. Obviously, she had not been shopping. She had no way of knowing how long Rachel had been home, but she had been gone less than an hour.
Chapter Twenty
THE DRIVE TO her condo in Oak Creek took a little longer because she took Lake Drive. It was early enough to avoid rush hour, but summer
days always meant that more people headed to the lakefront. Sailboats
dotted the horizon and the public beaches were patch-worked by multicol
ored towels, blankets, and umbrellas. It made her think of the nearly empty white sand beaches on the Caye.
She touched her face where Silke had kissed her and felt a chill. It was quick, but she could’ve sworn she saw fear in Silke’s eyes. It hurt her heart to think of Silke being in physical danger. But she didn’t know that for sure, and it was none of her business. She’d offered.
Traffic crawled through the highway interchange downtown and soon she was on south Lake Drive watching waves break along the shore. Why would Silke stay if she felt she was in danger? She wouldn’t interfere, but she vowed to stay connected.
SILKE QUIETLY OPENED the back door and hung her keys on the hook. She listened for any clue of Rachel’s presence. Nothing. Then she heard footsteps in the bedroom above.
“Rach, you up there?”
“Yeah, just unpacking. Where were you?”
“I walked down to the coffee shop for some exercise.”
“I’ll be down in a minute.”
Slightly relieved, Silke pulled the clean towels out of the dryer and car
ried them to the table. She took a deep breath and folded them very carefully. Within five minutes, Rachel bounded down the stairs with a laundry bag that she tossed in the laundry room.
She put her arms around Silke’s waist and kissed the back of her neck. “I’m sure glad to be home. I’m tired of listening to trainers complain that they have too much to do or not enough to do.” She kissed her again. “I missed you.”
Silke withered, put the towel down, and turned around. “I missed you,
too.”
Rachel embraced her and kissed her passionately. Silke forced herself
to respond even knowing where it would lead. It was the path of least re
sistance. Rachel led her upstairs, and she followed obediently.
“I have to make some appointments for next week,” Rachel called from the shower. “When I’m finished we can go shopping if you like.”
Silke pulled her wet hair into a ponytail and dressed in some comfortable walking shorts and a tee shirt. Trying to keep Rachel in a good mood was her best option if she wanted a civil conversation. Maybe a nice dinner. Rachel liked pork tenderloin—that’d work. Cocktails before dinner and a nice wine usually worked miracles for her.
After scribbling a shopping list, Silke sat down at the table to work on the sketches for the commission project. She could hear Rachel upstairs in the office talking and laughing. No wonder she was so good at sales.
The gallery owner had given her some background information and all she needed were some preliminary sketches to see if Mr. Hardcastle liked her ideas. Reportedly, he owned a sizable lakefront property with a bluff overlooking Lake Michigan. An elaborate patio extended from the rear of the house to the edge of the bluff, where he wanted to place an artistic rendition of a lighthouse as a focal point.
He’d bought two other sculptures of hers because of the lines and the textures she used. He asked that it be no more than eight-to-ten feet tall, which was doable. That would require at least two sections. She had a good visual in her mind, but since he wanted this to function as a light, she needed to factor in wiring and a stable base.
She flipped the page and began to draw the base. Rachel’s laughter stopped her. She tried another base that was a simple three-step square and another more decorative that was five sided. From that, she incorporated a two-foot diameter, six-inch inset that contained a four-foot, three-inch diameter galvanized pipe for the electrical wires. She closed her eyes and
visualized a four-foot section of wood hollowed out to fit the pipe. A sec
ond hollowed section would slide on top with a mortise and tenon-type joint. This was the fun part of the project, the fantasy.
The cupola would house some sort of reflective lighting—possibly a large commercial lamppost fixture . . . She swept the eraser bits off the paper.
Call Steve at Outdoor Lighting Specialists.
She drew another sketch and added four small windows in a spiral. Wood framed and shuttered. She hoped Mr. Hardcastle would leave the piece stained and not want it painted white.
“That’s interesting. New project?” Rachel leaned over her shoulder, and the scent of oak moss and musk filled the room.
She dropped the eraser. “Yes. I received a new commission from the
gallery. It’ll be a big job but it might be worth it because he’s a good cus
tomer.”
“How big does he want this? Do you have room in your studio?”
“No problem, he said eight-to-ten feet. Should be okay. I have to run
the sketches by him first so we’ll see.” Silke continued sketching the win
dows.
“Looks like it’ll take most of the summer. Good thing you’re not teach
ing.”
Her jaw tightened. She wasn’t teaching because the school worried about liability. They somehow felt their students wouldn’t be safe with a legally blind art instructor. They were gracious enough to allow her to finish teaching art history. She prayed that her doctor’s appointment next week would provide some good news.
“Are you ready to go?” Rachel gathered up her wallet, keys, and cell phone.
THE SMALL VILLAGE probably held two-dozen single-family shanties, for lack of a better description. Only four or five survived the flood waters. The sturdier platforms that had been built ten years earlier kept some of the structures above the damaging tide of debris. But they were rare and now crowded with small children and frail elderly villagers.One of the elders described the storm as “not so bad.” He said in the past that many lost their lives, this time no one had died. They would rebuild.As the waters receded, piles of debris mounded the roots of the mangroves.
Kirin sorted through her pictures, looking for the one with the chil
dren’s sandals. She lined up three of them and then enlarged the one in the center. Why hadn’t she seen that before? A waterlogged Bible with the red cover jammed against what looked like a black leather combat boot.
Interesting composition
. She saved it as a copy and cropped the lower half so that only the two objects were visible on top of the roots, muddy water, and other debris.She stared at the photo for several minutes, then printed it and tacked it to the bulletin board above her desk next to the picture of herself sitting with Silke at Fido’s. She shivered. All day she had been unable to shake the bad feeling that something was wrong. She gazed at the picture, still
worried. A voice in her head scolded her.
Do not get involved. You remem
ber what happened the last time
.Kirin pushed back her chair and crossed her legs on the corner the desk while she leaned back and rubbed her eyes. During her college years, she had worked part time at a restaurant near campus. She became friends with one of the waitresses, who finally confided she’d fallen on hard times and been kicked out of her apartment. Kirin took her in. It didn’t take too long for the story to unfold. Sue had kicked her girlfriend out. The girlfriend found someone else then started calling and begging for forgiveness. The back and forth went on for a couple weeks until Sue convinced Kirin to help her rescue the poor misguided soul.
What a clusterfuck
. Kirin had waited in the car, listening to hollering,
cursing, and bloodcurdling screams. After half an hour, Sue came run
ning out with another girl—whom she guessed was the mysterious Nikki. Expletives and a garbage bag followed them. “Just drive!”The following weeks were a combination of fun times and a lot of fight
ing between Sue and her girlfriend. Not arguments, but physical fights. Hair-pulling, scratching, slapping fights. Kirin had tried to be a peacemaker until Sue took her aside and warned her to not to interfere. “You don’t understand this, so just stay out of it.”She didn’t understand and eventually asked them both to leave. She was afraid the same thing was happening to Silke, but this time one of the parties involved was a special friend. She glanced at her cell phone, tempted to send a text. Then she remembered the look on Silke’s face when she got out of the car. She put the phone down.
She opened the document and continued writing. There was nothing she could do unless she was asked.
“Shit.”
Chapter Twenty-one
“I’M STUFFED. I don’t even think I have room for that dessert, although it smells wonderful.” Rachel put the plates in the sink and brought the wine bottle back to the table. She refilled each of their glasses. “The wine was a good choice.”
“Thanks.” The day had been pleasant, with no accusations, no snide remarks.
“Are you happy? I mean in general not just tonight.” Rachel’s voice was slightly slurred.
Silke took a deep breath. “I’m not sure how to answer that. Things haven’t been fine for such a long time. I don’t remember what happy feels like.” She swallowed hard.
Rachel leaned forward and cradled her head with both hands. “I don’t know what else I can do. I’ve apologized so many times and it doesn’t seem to make any difference. I don’t know what you want from me.”
“We’re just in different places. Our paths separated somewhere along the line and we don’t share the same interests. It’s not just because of . . . you must understand . . . . Never mind.”
“Baby, I love you. You’re the most important thing in my life.” Silke hated it when Rachel started pleading.
“We both know that isn’t true.” A sliver of defiance inched up her spine.
“It is,” Rachel pleaded.
“You still love the idea of a relationship. You’ve always wanted the Norman Rockwell vision, but it isn’t real. It’s what I thought I wanted too, but it’s not what we have.” Silke grabbed the wine bottle and splashed more into her glass. “For the last few years, I’ve stayed with you out of blind loyalty and . . . fear. It’s getting harder for me to work because I feel guilty when I’m not here taking care of the house. You rarely do anything around here so I don’t even know why we keep it.” The words poured out. She took another swallow of wine, hoping it gave her courage.
Rachel blinked and tried to focus. “What are you saying? I work hard to pay for this house, if I didn’t, we couldn’t afford it.”
“Maybe we should sell it.”
“What in the hell are you talking about?”
Silke grabbed the edge of the table. “Without teaching full time, I can’t afford it either. I’ll need to spend more time in my studio trying to create works to sell. But that’s difficult because of all the responsibilities I have around here.”
Rachel squinted and looked confused. She shook her head. “I’m con
fused. You’re saying you wanna sell this house?”
“Yes. You’re never here so why keep it?” The words were out before she could take them back.
“Where are we supposed to live?”
Silke shrugged. “I can move into my studio . . .”
Rachel’s jaw dropped. “You don’t wanna live with me anymore.”
It wasn’t a question, and Silke didn’t answer.
AT SUNRISE, SILKE quietly left the house with a thermos of cof
fee and a couple of bagels. Rachel had stayed up late, drinking. She had passed out on the couch, thankfully.
The air felt heavy, already sticky from the humidity. She wanted to work on the trim, but paint wouldn’t dry on a day like this. In addition to her sketchpad and laptop, she stuffed a few clothes and toiletries in her backpack.
There was no predicting Rachel’s reaction. Other times, she’d have a lot to drink, and might not remember the conversation, or she might be livid. Hell, she might even think the split’s a good idea.
The studio door creaked as she shoved it open. The wafting scents of fresh paint and sawdust greeted her, and she smiled. Even though it was small, she thought she could be happy in a space of her own. She opened the bay door and turned on the fan to circulate the stagnant air.
Sunday mornings were usually quiet in the neighborhood, and she en
joyed the early morning hours to herself. Last year, she had found a red metal drafting chair on sale and placed it at the large oak workbench under the windows. It was perfect. She spread out her drawings and poured some coffee. In the light of day, her ideas looked better. She had to tweak a few of them but she wanted to have something ready by Monday.
Nearly two hours later she heard a door slam across the alley. She gird
ed herself for a possible confrontation. With the doors and windows open in the studio, she felt safe that Rachel would not make a scene.
Without turning around, she felt Rachel’s presence, or more appropri
ately her energy.
“Looks like you’ve been busy. It looks nice.” Rachel walked around the room but didn’t go upstairs, fortunately.
“One of my former students helped me paint.” Silky continued work
ing on the drawing.
“I see. Well, it turns out I have to leave early. Jim scheduled a new cli
ent first thing tomorrow morning in Columbus. I’ll be leaving in an hour.” She walked to the door. “I guess we’ll talk when I get back in two weeks. If you need anything, you know where I’ll be. Oh, I left some money on the counter for the bills.”
And she was gone, just like that. Silke sat motionless for least fifteen minutes, waiting for the other shoe to drop. She didn’t leave the studio until noon then cautiously ventured back to the house. She sighed. Everything remained exactly as it had been the night before. Dishes in the sink, unopened mail on the counter, and dirty laundry sitting on the floor.
An unexpected sob escaped her throat and tears coursed down her
cheeks. She slid down the kitchen wall and felt completely lost and help
less. Her agony surfaced like a long dormant festering infection.
“I KNOW THIS is short notice,” Esther said over the phone, “but Barb Grant had an emergency gallbladder operation and she was scheduled to
write a short piece on the Door County Veterans Parade. It’s next week
end.”
“I really need to work on this article . . .” Kirin realized it would only be a weekend trip, and she could use the money. Besides, if she had to work, she could legitimately avoid a trip to her parents’ cottage. “Look, if we can keep it quick and short, I could probably drive up there for the weekend.”
“You’re a life saver. I’ll owe you for this one.” Esther sounded ecstatic.
“And you’ll cover all of my expenses?” No harm in asking.
“Absolutely. I’ll e-mail the contact information. Thanks, Kirin.”
She looked at the calendar. It was next weekend, which meant she had about four days to arrange and send the photographs. She could probably dictate some of the article in the car, which would save time. It was doable. Besides what else did she have to do? She had friends up north who hosted an annual Fourth of July party.
SILKE HUNG UP the dish towel, relieved that the kitchen was back in order. Rachel wasn’t always this passive aggressive, but then she’d never
been physically aggressive either. She poured a glass of iced tea and head
ed into the living room with her cell phone, determined to start being more proactive.
“Hi, Phillip. It’s me. Sorry to bother you on a Sunday afternoon.”
“No bother, sis. You know I’m always glad to hear from you. Besides, we were just packing the car to head out to Mom’s for dinner. Are you gals going?”
She swallowed hard. That was the next phone call she was going to make and really didn’t want to. “Well . . . No. Rachel had to leave early for a meeting in Columbus.”
“Why don’t you come with us? I’ll come get you while Barb is making her potato salad. How about it?”
“I don’t want you to have to go out of your way . . . And I really do have some stuff to do.” That sounded so lame.
You wanted a chance to talk to him. This would be perfect, and you could pay an overdue visit to your mother.
Phillip waited, knowing it would increase the guilt factor. His skill as a litigator earned him an excellent reputation.
“I really do want to talk to you so . . . How soon do I need to be ready?”
“Give me forty-five minutes, and don’t forget your swimsuit.” He chuckled.
She laughed. “See you then, bully.” It would be a good opportunity to apprise everyone of the situation. Things had been uneasy for the past year, even worse since the incident with Rachel.
At first, her family had been so supportive when she had announced her new relationship with a woman. And over the years, they’d warmed to Rachel’s winning personality. But when her injury resulted in partial blindness, Phillip’s fury nearly put Rachel behind bars. For months, he threatened to sue for damages and begged Silke to let him. In hindsight, well . . . it was best not to go there.
Silke went out to close up the studio, and as an afterthought, grabbed the lighthouse drawings to take along. Phillip had always been her most honest critic. With a small bag packed and a nice bottle of wine, she waited at the front door.
Right on time, Phillip showed up in the brand new Lincoln Navigator he had purchased for Barb. She locked the front door as he bounded up the steps to help her.
“Let me take those,” he said and wrapped his arms around her in a bear hug. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages. You look tan. Have you been laying out sunning yourself?”
She laughed as he opened the car door for her. “You must have missed the memo. I was in Belize for two weeks.”
He started the car then slapped his forehead. “Oh yeah, I completely forgot. It’s been crazy at work and the boys are both passionately involved in soccer.”
“Wow, I thought it was little league.” Now she felt guilty that she hadn’t checked up on her nephews. She put her hand on Phillip’s shoulder. “When did we get too busy to stay in touch?”
He laughed and shook his head. “I don’t know. Life just seems to fly by, and we get too caught up, I guess.” He took her hand. “This is a good start. Let’s remedy that problem. Jack and Jordon will be thrilled to see you.”
“And I’ll be glad to see them. Christmas wasn’t the same with you guys in Florida.”
Phillip groaned. “I hope I never have to do that again. The boys loved Disney World, but two weeks with Barb’s parents was not a vacation—let me just say that. And speaking of relatives. What’s up with Rachel? Sounds like she’s doing an awful lot of traveling.”
Shoe. Dropped
. “Actually, that’s the reason I called. We can talk later if we don’t have time now. I need your help. You know this year’s been difficult, and I’ve decided to end the relationship as gracefully as possible. Last night, I suggested we sell the house and Rachel went into shutdown mode. I think that’s why she left early.”
“Are you sure you want to do that? Where will you live?”
“I’ve been getting my studio ready, in case I needed . . . in case I want
ed to move out there. I got some used furniture, and the landlord agreed to make it more habitable for the winter. At least it’s something I can afford and some place to work.”
Phillip tapped the steering wheel with his finger, and Silke could al
most see the cogs grinding in his head. “Let me think about this. You
know I’ll do anything you want to make you happy, but let’s move care
fully. More important than anything, I want to be
sure
that you’re safe. Please remember you can always stay with Mom or us. So let’s consider all the options . . .”
THE SUNDAY DRIVE from Phillip and Barb’s beautiful Fox Point home out to her mother’s house in Elm Grove was comfortable and fun. The boys talked almost nonstop about school, their friends, and soccer, soccer, soccer. She didn’t need to worry about awkward silences with two eight year olds.
As soon as Philip put the car in park, the boys were out of their seat belts and racing to the front door as her mom stood with open arms.
